


Fairytale Feeling

by FyrMaiden



Series: Spin The Bottle [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1204063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: What if… they’d never played Spin The Bottle? (S2, pre-Klaine.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairytale Feeling

Kurt invited him, sat down on the other end of a couch after Warblers practice and said, “Rachel is having a party. Finn says she’s got it in her head that she needs to have a party to help her write a song. I think Finn might have got himself confused, but the fact remains, Rachel is having a party. Can you – do you – would you like to come?” Blaine’s mind went blank and ingrained politeness took over. He nodded mutely. Yes, he would love to attend a party with Kurt’s friends, whom he didn’t know, assuming he would not be crashing. Kurt arched a beautiful eyebrow at him and smiled that indecipherable coy little smile of his, shrugged one shoulder. “You won’t be crashing it any more than I am,” he said, and levered himself off of the couch. “Do you need a ride home, or is your dad picking you up?”

“Dad’s picking me up,” Blaine murmured, and mentally started planning his party etiquette. 

*

Blaine spent ninety minutes on his hair and his outfit. He wanted it to be perfect. He wanted to not be pre-judged and knew he already had been, deep down. He was going to be in a room full of people who knew two things about him – that he was Kurt’s friend from Dalton, and that he was gay – and, although those two things weren’t wrong, they weren’t the whole picture either. 

Thirty minutes before Kurt was due to pick him up, Blaine almost text him to say he had a bug, that he had homework his was behind on, but when he opened up his messages, his last text to Kurt had been another one of his standard ‘Courage’ missives. He swallowed his nerves, lay back on his bed, and counted the swirls in the artex. 

Ten minutes before Kurt, he changed his whole outfit again. He wanted to look like a regular teenager, someone Kurt’s friends could relate to. He pulled on different jeans, dark wash denim with turnups, and then went for co-ordinating socks. He deliberated over sweaters before choosing a form fitting maroon cardigan. When Kurt arrived in pants with safety pins down the legs, he panicked that he was under dressed. Kurt only smiled and said he liked that colour on him. Blaine could feel how tight his smile was, but he called goodbye to his mom and grabbed his coat all the same. _Courage_ , he thought to himself, and then, _You can do this. It’s just another performance._ Mostly, he tried to keep breathing. 

*

It turned out there was no need to worry. Rachel welcomed them warmly, wearing what Blaine could only think of as a nightdress, almost certain it was not something he’d seen in any of the magazines his mother bought and he read diligently. Still, her smile was effusive and infectious, and Blaine found himself smiling back. 

The party didn’t really pick up, though, until a boy with a mohawk and an attractive, mesmerising swagger persuaded Rachel to let him bust open her dads’ drinks cabinet. Blaine ended up with a red solo cup, filled to beer level with he wasn’t entirely sure what but it was sweet and slid down his throat and slowly eroded his nerves until he found himself sitting on the edge of Rachel’s bona fide stage with an arm around Kurt’s brother, babbling effusively about him being, like, really tall. Finn smiled kindly and helped him to his feet, guided him to a couch and sat him down with a cup of water. 

By the time Rachel announced party games – ‘Let’s play spin the bottle!’, which Santana sneered at and suggested Truth or Dare, or Have You Ever, to loud cheers – Blaine had collapsed into the girl who had come to sit next to him and was lying with his back to the room and his head in her lap as her fingers carded through his hair the same way as his mom’s did when he was sick. He didn’t feel sick, just sleepy, and her voice was nice as she talked to him.

“’M Blaine,” he mumbled around his tongue, looking up into her pretty, heart-shaped face. She smiled back, her eyes crinkling as she laughed a little.

“I’m Tina,” she said, her voice suggesting maybe she’d told him that already. He couldn’t remember, so he closed his eyes and let her continue to massage his pounding head. 

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke up to different music. The throb and pulse felt different, and he stirred and moved to roll over, only to find himself staring at the buttons of a girls dress. Gentle hands smoothed his hair, and a quiet voice whispered, “Steady, Blaine. You’ve been out for twenty minutes or so.” His limbs felt like lead, and his tongue felt too big for his head, and he twisted slowly onto his back to look up into the concerned face of Tina.

“Need water,” he said quietly, and then, “I think I need to go home.” 

“I think Kurt’s with Mercedes and Rachel in the kitchen,” Tina said, and Blaine nodded uncertainly, not wanting to be a nuisance or stop Kurt from enjoying his night. Tina’s hands helped him sit upright, and he blinked as he stared around the room.

“Okay,” he said, and took a cup of water from someone whose face he didn’t see, only for it to resolve itself into the shape of Mike when it sat down on his other side, bracketing him between two warm bodies. 

“Where do you live, Blaine?” Mike asked, and Blaine furrowed his brow before reeling off his address. Mike looked over the top of his head at Tina and said, “He’s on the way to my house. We can take him home if you’re ready?” 

“I’ll tell Kurt if you want to get him in the car,” she replied, and squeezed Blaine’s arm gently as he sipped his cup of water. 

*

Blaine talked a lot in the car, tongue alcohol loose and Tina warm beside him. “Was really nervous,” he said, staring out of the window at the blurry post boxes and avenues of trees and neatly manicured lawns. “Was really worried about what people would think of me. You know? Because Dalton and – and gay and everything.”

“We don’t love Kurt less because he went to Dalton,” Tina said softly, and Blaine turned his head to look at her.

“I don’t live there,” he said. “My dad takes me in on his way to work, and then I do my homework while I wait for him to bring me home. My mom likes me to come home so she can make sure I got through another day unscarred.” Tina and Mike both make an empathetic noise at that, overprotective mothers being something they could relate to. Blaine smiled and dropped his chin. “I mean, I guess after the last time when I didn’t tell her how bad it was, I get it. It’s still kinda weird. I mean, that’s the point of sending me to Dalton, that I’d be safe there.” 

“Safe?” Tina asked, and Blaine inclined his head, regarding her steadily for a long moment.

“I wish I’d had friends like Kurt has,” he said in lieu of answering, and lurched forward slightly as Mike drew to a stop at the end of his drive. Tina didn’t say anything further about Dalton, but helped him unbuckle his seatbelt.

“Do you want me to help you to the door?” she asked, and Blaine laughed and slid out of the car, only to catch his breath as the chill February air hit him. Mike nodded at her, and she opened her own door, walked around the back of Mike’s car to slide her arm around Blaine’s waist. “Come on,” she said, “One foot at a time. Easy does it.” 

They made their unsteady way up Blaine’s drive, Blaine’s weight hanging increasingly off of Tina’s frame. “You smell nice,” he said as she rang his doorbell, unwilling to search his pockets for his keys. 

“You look good, too,” she said, and his easy smile increased to a megawatt grin, infectious and disarming. She leaned into him and pressed a small, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth just as the front door opened, and pulled back to explain why Blaine was home early and to apologise for his condition. 

Blaine wasn’t listening. The corner of his mouth tingled, and he could feel the fizz in his fingers and toes. He’d never kissed a boy and he’d never been attracted to girls, but the possibility that he’d been wrong opened up like a chasm in front of him. He stared blankly at Tina, and leaned in to hug her again, her body warm and soft against his as she hugged him back. 

“Go get some sleep,” she suggested as she pulled back, squeezing his shoulders as his mom took his hand. “You’ll feel better in the morning.” 

He watched her trip back down the drive and climb into the front of Mike’s car, and continued to feel the thrill of her chase through his veins as his mom made him herbal tea and helped him climb the stairs to his room, deliberately not asking about Tina or the party or any part of his night, not yet. 

*

The following morning, Blaine was still not quite his usual bouncy self, even after coffee and breakfast. He was quiet in the car on the way to school, and his dad’s usual banter seemed to fall on deaf ears. It wasn’t until he was cramming his books into his bag and winding his scarf around his neck that he really spoke. 

“I kissed a girl,” he said, opening the car door and pausing with one foot outside. He looked at his dad, and his dad looked back, concerned eyes belying the determined impassivity of his jaw. Blaine felt himself shrinking back inside the shell it had taken him a year to come out of. “It’s a little confusing,” he breathed, and his dad reached for his wrist and squeezed it gently.

“Whatever happens, Blaine, your mom and I love you, okay?” Blaine looked at him again and nodded jerkily, once up, once down, and his dad released his grip so he could get out of the car. Leaning back into the car from the outside and readjusting his bag n his shoulder, he said, “I’ll get a ride home with Kurt, Dad. I’ll see you at home.” 

“Okay, tiger. Knock ’em dead.”

He closed the door, pulled his coat tight around his frame, and jogged up the steps and inside Dalton’s impressive facade, the phantom of Tina’s mouth on his still playing in the back of his mind.


End file.
